


The End of the World

by Dernhelm



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dragon Age II Spoilers, M/M, Romance, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dernhelm/pseuds/Dernhelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Happily ever after" goes sour when Fenris decides there's no room in a Viscount's life for a tortured former slave. Naturally, Hawke has other ideas. Set after the events of <i>Dragon Age II</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the World

“You’re home later than I expected.” 

Fenris' quiet voice drifted from the chairs by the library's dim fireplace, and Hawke sighed quietly to himself. He’d known he’d find Fenris here, sulking amongst the books. He’d asked his beloved once why he always chose the library when he was upset, when Fenris was barely beyond reading the most basic primers. Fenris had merely shrugged, and murmured something about surrounding himself with inspiration.

Hawke suspected that it had more to do with self-flagellation. A constant reminder of who he was not, of who he could never be. It was the same reason Fenris refused to accompany Hawke to the numerous state social affairs that Hawke was obligated to attend, both as the champion of Kirkwall and now as her Viscount.

“I’m sorry. The dinner ran over. I left as soon as I could.” Hawke sank into the overstuffed chair across from his Fenris. He tried to study the elf's face, gauge just how upset he was, but the fire was too low in the hearth to make an accurate assement. 

“Yes. I’m sure you were busy. Fending off your adoring public.” Fenris waved his hand in a sloppy imitation of a regal wave. “All those noble-born puff-shirts, each wanting a piece of the great Champion.”

Hawke then noticed the empty bottles of wine strewn on the end table between them, and he bit back another sigh. It was a mighty darkness indeed that clouded Fenris tonight. Why his beloved insisted on feeding his sorrow, rather than fighting it, was a question he never could answer.

“You know all they get is the Champion,” Hawke said slowly. He picked up the closest bottle, and seeing there was still some fluid left in it, took a long swig. It was a Tevinter vintage. Fenris was indeed in a black mood.

“For now,” Fenris growled. His lithe fingers curled tightly against the arms of his chair. He leaned forward to meet Hawke’s gaze, his jade eyes crackling with barely-checked anguish. “It’s not secret, Hawke, that you are the most eligible man in Kirkwall; a prize for any lady lucky enough to catch your fancy.”

“Fenris!” Hawke was taken fully aback. Here at last, they’d come to the kernel of fear that lived at the heart of Fenris’ anger. “You know I would never—”

Fenris snapped his head away from Hawke, interrupting him with his acidic words. “My Hawke would not. But Viscount Hawke would, and will have to someday, to secure his heritage.”

“Who have you been talking to? Who gave you these ideas?” Hawke said angrily. “Was it Aveline? I know she takes these things seriously, but—”

“I know how these things work, Hawke.” Fenris cut him off in a grim tone. “From Denarius’ side, I watched the Magister lords and ladies play their sordid games. Matchmaking was among the most fiercely competitive.” 

Fenris’ head rolled back against the back of his chair. The sight of his graceful throat arching up towards the ceiling made Hawke’s heart ache. How could Fenris not know how much he loved him? Three years he waited for this stubborn elf to come around, three years of aching and hoping and praying to the Maker. Hawke would have waited for the rest of his life, if he’d had to.

“A man such as yourself should have a fine lady upon his arm,” Fenris slurred softly. “A woman of good breeding, who knows the correct things to say, the correct people to associate with, the correct way to lay—”

“Leto, stop!” Hawke’s heart was near bursting. “Just, stop for a moment, please!”

Hawke slid from his seat onto his knees, and placed his hands upon Fenris’ muscular thighs. Even though Hawke was right before him, Fenris deliberately refused to meet Hawke’s dark eyes.

“I don’t ever, _ever_ want you to compare me Denarius, or to any Tevinter Magister,” Hawke fumed, before calming himself. “You are not my slave. You are my partner. My beloved.”

Fenris seemed halfway between surrender and severity, his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

“What manner of partner am I, if you cannot even be seen with me?”

Hawke sighed, and leaned in closer. “I would have you come with me to these events, to stand at my side, and upon my arm.”

Fenris gave a snort.

“Ah yes, I’m sure I’d be quite the sensation. The whispers, the glances, the bets whether I am merely bodyguard or bedmate—”

Hawke couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Fenris’ fine chin in his hand, and wrenched his face to meet his.

“There would be no bets, for I would stand proudly before all of Thedas, and call you my mate. My one,” Hawke said softly.

The words had an effect on Fenris, though not quite the one he had been expecting. His eyes rimmed with tears, his full lips pressed into a thin, bitter line. Finally, he mastered himself, and spoke.

“Were you merely the Champion, I could believe you. But you are Viscount of Kirkwall now. Duty must come before desire.”

With a grace born of years in the field, Fenris rose to his feet. He extracted himself gracefully from Hawke’s kneeled embrace, and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I…I am leaving, Hawke.”

“Fenris, please. Stay here tonight. We, we can discuss in the mor—”

“You don’t understand.” Fenris took a deep, shaking breath. “I’m leaving Kirkwall.”

All the air went out of Hawke’s lungs in a rush, as if he’d been punched.

“I’ve accepted Isabela’s offer,” Fenris continued hurriedly. He was deliberately not looking at Hawke. “She sets sail for Antiva in two days. I’ll be going with her.”

The world was spinning, too fast for Hawke to grasp. This he’d never expected. Not after everything they’d gone through, everything they’d promised.

“Fenris, I…” The words stuck in Hawke’s throat, as if nailed there by his grief. So he cleared his throat, and tried again. “How…how long have you been planning this?”

“A few days now. Since the Wintourgren’s ball.” Fenris was shaking, and Hawke had the overwhelming urge to go to him, still his quaking with a kiss. But he was frozen with his shock, and could only watch as the one he loved the most slowly slipped away. Again.

“Since I told you how they were throwing their daughter at me…” Hawke’s words trailed off. He cursed himself internally. He should have known better. He had meant only to share the scenario as a humorous anecdote. It seems Fenris had taken it much more seriously.

“Aveline asked me once if I was loyal to Kirkwall.” Fenris’ voice was soft, laced with pain. “I can say now with certainty that I am. I am willing to sacrifice my own happiness for the good of the city.”

“Fenris, please. Don’t do this to me. To us.” Hawke struggled to his feet, feeling like a slow, clumsy child. “I swear to you, I will find a way to make this work.”

The elf gave Hawke a soft, sad smile.

“By juggling me and the eventual bride that will be thrust upon you? No, my dear Viscount. I think not. That way lies madness, for all involved.” Fenris swallowed hard. “Do not think to find me at my mansion, for I will not be there. I’ve already made arrangements. This…this was the last thing I had to do.” Fenris turned his back on Hawke. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Had our fortunes turned out differently…”

“Leto, please!” Hawke knew he was begging, but he didn’t care. He would do anything, anything at all if it meant Fenris would stay. He finally found his feet, and scrambled to Fenris. He locked his hands around the elf’s slim arms. The tattoos flared all the brighter, a warning flash from a cornered predator.

“Don’t!” Fenris wrenched his arm away. “Don’t make this harder than it already is!”

“But…but I love you,” Hawke whispered.

Fenris’ fist lashed out in a burst of crackling blue energy. It embedded itself in the wall, and the flare died. He gave a roar as he wrenched his hand out again, sending splinters of wood and chunks of plaster flying.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke, say no more! My mind’s made up.” Tears were streaming down his smooth cheeks, tracing down to the curve of his set jaw. “I must do this. Because I love you.”

Hawke stood by helplessly as Fenris strode away, taking with him his heart, his life, his very soul. 

 

***

“You sure about this, Fenris?” Isabela asked from behind the elf, her voice carried upon the salt-scented breeze. “You admitted yourself you weren’t much of a sailor.”

Had Fenris any heart left, his lips would have curled into a smile. He knew what the Rivani was doing. He also knew she was wasting her time.

“I have made my commitment, Captain.” Fenris said curtly. “I await your orders.”

“Oh, I’m going to like this.” Isabela gave him a wicked smirk, obviously trying to lighten his dour mood. “Alright then. If you’re sure. Help the men ready the sails. We’ve got our clearance.”

A strange relief flooded the elf. He knew how to take orders. It was a comfort to have something to do, to take his mind off of Hawke’s heartbroken face. He hadn’t even let him kiss him one last time…

Fenris shook himself harshly. No. No more dwelling. He had made his choice, and he would stand by it.

_Like you promised Hawke you’d stand by him._

Gritting his teeth, Fenris set to his tasks as Isabela guided the ship out of the bay and out to sea. He would sail to the far corners of Thedas, as far as he could get from the one thing he had always wanted…the one true joy he sacrificed for Kirkwall.

_I hope you’re happy now, you bloated bitch of a city. Treat him kindly. May Hawke's rule be long and prosperous._

“Kirkwall almost looks pretty from here, don’t you think?”

Fenris’ head whipped around in shock. Beside him stood Hawke, looking as nonchalant and handsome as he ever did.

“I mean, the huge statues of weeping slaves don’t do much for her. I hope the next Viscount finally has those hideous things taken down.”

“You!” Fenris’ voice practically squeaked. He had to be dreaming. There was no way that Hawke—Viscount Hawke—could really be standing beside him. “You…you should be in Kirkwall!”

“And what? Let you and Isabela sail into the sunset without me?” Hawke snorted. “Not a bloody chance.”

Realization began to dawn, rich and delirious and terrifying.

“You…you’re running away, aren’t you? From your title, your duties…”

Hawke waved his hand before his face, as if shooing off a gnat. “I never asked to be Viscount.” He thought for a second. “Alright, perhaps I did. But it’s not what I want. Not if it means living without you, Leto.”

It was Fenris’ turn to be struck speechless. Hawke took the opportunity to close the remaining distance between them, and take Fenris in his arms. A soft, sure kiss convinced Fenris he wasn’t dreaming, and the ice he’d entombed his heart in began to thaw under Hawke’s strong lips.

“You truly would walk away from it all?” Fenris’ brow creased, even as his eyes widened in wonder. “You would give up everything you’ve earned, just for me?”

“I just did,” Hawke said softly. He gave Fenris a gentle smile.

Fenris couldn’t contain the raw joy in his heart. He let out a whoop of triumph, and flung himself against Hawke once more. This time, he let himself believe, to trust, that truly, this was real. Hawke had indeed followed him, chosen the love of an elven slave over the riches and prestige of being Viscount.

“Alright, you two! That’s enough of that.” Isabela chirped, interrupting their reunion. Her face was stern, even as her eyes sparkled. “Since you’re both new aboard my ship, and seeing the circumstances, I’ll make an exception this once. But otherwise, all hanky-panky is kept to below decks, and to after duty.”

“Yes, Captain.” The two men pulled apart instantly, and though their bodies tensed into respectful readiness, their eyes remained bright. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be too sorry.” She smirked. “You’ve given half the crew thoughts to keep their bunks warm on the upcoming lonely nights.” She gave them a wink. “I may have to ask for a repeat performance later on, as a favor to your Captain.”

“Aye aye!” Hawke replied cheerily.

Fenris was still too stunned to make any sort of cheeky reply, so he held his tongue. All he knew for sure was that it was going to be a long wait until their shift was over. But if it meant that at the end of the day, he’d be able to climb into a bunk beside his Hawke, he’d wait until the end of the world.


End file.
